


you won't even feel it start

by song_of_fate



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Shit Talk, M/M, Pining, Smut, Trailer Sex, and is mad about it, bobo just wants to be loved, doc had a plan and promptly forgot the plan, it's about the tender snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23513179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/song_of_fate/pseuds/song_of_fate
Summary: There are times when the call is too sweet to resist.Doc and Bobo were never good at resisting anyway.
Relationships: Doc Holliday/Bobo Del Rey | Robert Svane
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	you won't even feel it start

**Author's Note:**

> Title borrowed from "Tethered to the Dark" by Anya Marina which was not necessarily the mood for this fic and still ended up playing on repeat anyway. 
> 
> Please come talk to me about this ship I have so, so many feelings.

It wasn’t often that a human-shaped creature of any sort truly surprised Doc Holliday. It didn’t matter the power that thrummed under your skin— if the skin you chose was _human_ there was a tendency to be bound by those old, familiar weaknesses. He’d bore witness the results of human folly as often as he participated in them himself. But where it made others easy to see, or easy to use, if it came to that, Doc had the ability to turn off the part of him that bled and cried and longed for the touch of another if that was what was required to get the job done.

Whatever kind of monster that made him hadn’t mattered for a long time. Not since Wyatt Earp abandoned him in that shoddy hotel room. Not since the Witch left him to lose his mind over and over in that godforsaken well. But he was now free from the agony of both love and prison, and suddenly, an opportunity had arisen in a place he’d least expected.

It was the Witch, in fact, that he was after now. There were no parts of him left to ruin after a century staring at the stars and wondering when they’d finally take him. Death or revenge: Those were his options. Since Death had refused him…Well. Doc preferred to settle his own affairs anyway. 

The only thing he truly required was a lead, and it quickly became apparent who held all the cards in this new world run by old things. The Revenants did not know what to do with him but snarl suspiciously and attempt to bully him at poker until their leader told them otherwise. And it was Bobo that Doc needed to persuade to his side in the first place. Or at least lean him close enough to the edge for it to be worthwhile. 

There had only been a few encounters between the two of them thus far, but Doc couldn’t help but notice that Bobo had a curious way of pinning you without touching. Whether it was the way that ridiculous coat covered the hunch in his shoulders and widened the length of them at once or the way his eyes roamed over a man as if he were wearing nothing at all but his bones and his secrets. All of this tempered with a stark intelligence; a knowing that made it hard to accept that Bobo was simply one of those fools who’d stumbled into power. 

Whatever had happened to him in Hell, it appeared he’d earned his place in this twisted hierarchy with a purposeful sort of violence that kept his men at bay. 

There were eyes on Doc when his knuckles rapped against the door of said man’s trailer. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear he could hear the individual sets of teeth that were grinding away at the sight of him. Bobo had sent quite the message, sometimes he could feel the ghost of it on his jaw, and the animosity the Revenants held for him hadn’t much changed even when he and Bobo had come to their accord. Still, no one had bothered to lay a hand on him when he came strolling back into the yard. 

The latch unlocked, but there was no further movement from beyond the door. Doc cast a look over his shoulder at the seething Revenants glaring daggers at his back, tipping his hat just to watch them gnash their teeth before taking it as the invitation it surely was meant to be and let himself inside.

“I thought you were done with us, _John Henry_.” Bobo’s voice greeted him as he pulled the door shut. “Moved out to sleep under the stars, wasn’t it?”

There was a retort ready on Doc’s tongue but it stalled there when he caught a full glimpse of the man he’d come for. In a truly bizarre turn of events, Bobo was not wearing his trademark fur coat but a simple black shirt with long sleeves pulled up to his elbows, exposing the skin of his arms that were crossed low over his stomach. The jeans he wore were tight around long legs; likely he had no reason to liberate clothing from unwilling sources they actually fit as they were meant to. His hair had the appearance of suffering fingers running through the strands and displacing them from their normal style, and he brushed aside a stack of papers he appeared to be laboring over. 

It would have softened anyone else, this lack of armor. But Bobo still had the sway of a snake, ready and more than willing to strike as he leaned against the wall. He eyed Doc with a lazy sort of interest as though he was not at all concerned that Doc could just as likely be here to kill him as he was to talk to him. He may not have the ability to send a Revenant back to Hell, but he could make them suffer if he was of the mind. Of course, Bobo looked like he would smile and dare him to _try._

“Now, I can’t imagine my moving on from your… _quaint_ little park bothered you too terribly,” Doc replied. “If that was the case then I would suggest you endeavor to contain the gaps in communication. A man would almost think he’s _welcome_.”

“You already had quite the reputation before you dragged Levi across the line.” Bobo’s fingers lifted from his arm, a shrug of the hand that caught the dimming light on the rings he wore. There was a flash of teeth that was anything but friendly. “They’re waiting for you to slip up.” 

“They’ll be back in Hell before they get the pleasure,” He took a couple of steps forward, unable to not notice the jut of Bobo’s hip bones and the way the black fabric clung to his forearms. “This partnership of ours has been looking rather one-sided. The fact is that you are keeping the Witch from me despite all that I’ve proven of myself to you. I want her _name_ , Bobo.”

“Patience, Doc,” Bobo said. His head lolled a bit to the side and back, lips still tilted as he caught Doc’s gaze from the corner of his eye. “You’ve waited this long, you can go a bit longer if it’ll benefit us both.” He pushed off the wall and even further into the rapidly closing space between them that Doc found himself once more not bothering to step away from. “Unless you’ve come to tell me you’ve gone soft on yet another Earp and you’d like me to put you out of your misery. I have a small break in my schedule.”

Doc inclined his head. There had been a distinct lack of subtlety concerning his dealings with Wynonna, he could admit. But women could only go so far in distracting a man from his goal, and it had yet to come to a point where it mattered. “You know as well as I do how foolish it is to limit yourself to only one set of eyes.” 

“Oh, a set of eyes is she?” Bobo asked. He pressed his lips together and tilted his head, his eyes an unwavering tundra blue that Doc wasn’t sure he’d observed before now. It was easier to focus when he wasn’t looking directly at them. “Now I expected you to take your cut on the side,” He sneered at Doc, “But word is that you’re out there getting a little attached and I don’t have time to be cleaning up after the inevitable calling of your dick.”

“I’m sure I told you once before,” The floor creaked when he leaned in, and there was nowhere left for the other man to go. His lack of concern was an affront to Doc’s pride in itself, but to the part of him that thrilled at the fight and the thought of a worthy opponent came burning with a call to some kind of action. “I do not work for you. What happens outside of our arrangement is none of your concern.” 

“Big talk for someone who keeps risking his neck to get to what I know. But if that’s the game you want to play,” Something flashed in Bobo’s eyes and when they narrowed it was with the lift of a smirk that was so close now Doc could have felt the curve of it against his own mouth if he swayed forward another inch.“Then why are you here?” 

Doc had been asking himself that question for more than a few moments now. Part of him knew that Bobo wasn’t going to suddenly give away this information simply because he’d asked, but where he’d come from even criminals lived by a code: and Doc had done his part. Bobo was certainly in need of a man with some brains in this outfit, and Doc only wanted the Witch. What happened with the Revenants was of no current consequence to him as long as he got to watch the life drain out of her eyes himself. 

Bobo was still entirely too close as he waited for his answer; the demon never did have any concept of personal space. He touched Doc like he had the right to, asserted himself in ways that had lost other men limbs. They weren’t touching now, but the scant measurements of air separating them grew heavy and electric in a way it never did when they had an audience. A quiet settled over their shoulders, unfamiliar territory for men like them who relied on words. 

Doc’s fingers were twitching, aching for an anchor to grab on to. Most of the time that impulse had him going for the guns at his waist, but something in him, something weak and far too reckless reached for a prize much warmer than cold metal. Bobo tensed, the furrow of his brow slackening the only outward reaction to the touch, but when Doc brushed his thumb just there in the curve of his hip something dangerous began to unfurl from the growl in his throat. 

“If you think you can fuck the information out of me, you’ve got another thing coming,” Bobo said, jaw tensing. “I’m not interested, I’m _busy_ .” His hand came up to push at Doc’s chest until he had little choice than to press forward or step back. Doc didn’t press in situations like this but he let his fingers trail against the patch of skin he’d found, reluctant to let go for reasons he couldn’t quite fathom. “So do us both a favor go find another way to entertain yourself until you’re _needed._ ”

Doc felt like a fog was lifting from over his eyes. He couldn’t tell when he’d gotten lost, but it was apparent the assumption that Bobo had come to from the shadow that fell over his face. It wasn’t outside of Doc’s repertoire to do such a thing; he could freely admit he’d used that tactic on more than one occasion. It was the fact that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind once during this exchange that had his eyebrows rising high at Bobo’s words. 

He lifted his hands as the tension turned sharp. “Had I any sort of inclination that that course of action was the most _prudent_ , I would have attempted it long before today.” There wasn’t a point in trying to lie to him about it. Bobo watched him, jaw tight with the ghost of a perceived slight that Doc had honestly not thought to mitigate until now. He hadn’t expected such a rebuttal when Bobo had leaned into his space, but that hardly mattered now. “However, I will apologize. It appears I’ve overstepped.”

Bobo jerked back, surprise flitting across his face before his eyes narrowed again. This time it wasn’t suspicion so much as it was an assessment of character. His arms were hanging at his sides fingers flexing as he watched Doc like he couldn’t quite believe it was that easy. That thought sat cold and ugly at the base of Doc’s throat. 

“Why did you really come here?” Bobo asked. 

Doc huffed. “As I was saying, I—” 

“The Witch, right.” Bobo cut him off, lifting a finger to wave at him. “Except we already had an agreement that I would tell you what you needed to know when you needed to know it. So what did you think you’d gain?” 

“Celerity,” Doc said. “And the opportunity to help us both out from a rather persistent irritant. You keep her because you need her for something. I do not particularly care what that is. I’d only like to help you figure out a way to remove her from your situation so that I may deal with her myself.” 

“Your signals are crossed here, _Henry_.” Bobo snarled, flinging a hand between them as if to encompass the entire distasteful event. 

Doc’s pressed his lips together as he attempted to find the right combination of words. The issue here now lay in that touching Bobo had not been something he’d imagined doing willingly and now he was being asked to answer for it. Doc chewed on the corner of his mouth before sighing. “If you must know, it has come to my attention that you terribly _distracting_ and I find myself unable to think of much else at the moment.”

If he gained nothing else from this encounter, Doc could at least leave knowing he put that dumbfounded look on Bobo del Rey’s face. 

“Distracting,” Bobo repeated finally. “Distracting like—” 

It wasn’t embarrassment that caused the heat to rise up the back of Doc’s neck, he’d never been quiet about attraction before, but the situation was indeed going to become awkward very quickly. “I will not give you the satisfaction of breaking it down.”

“Well, that _is_ interesting…” Bobo’s expression was shifting from one to the next, slowly working himself into something insufferable that Doc was simply not going to entertain. If he was lucky, Bobo would only use this particular brand of ammo only when he was devoid of other options. 

His fingers slid around the doorknob, “If we’re done here,”

“Okay,” Bobo said, causing Doc’s head to snap back up to find Bobo once again very close. “Okay Henry,” He had one hand on Doc’s chest and the other slid up to grip around Doc’s neck, light enough that Doc wasn’t concerned with breathing but hard enough to keep him there. “We can do this—but _I_ lead.”

  
  


* * *

“I am not averse to that if it is your preference,” Henry said after some consideration, calm as anything even with his fragile human trachea so vulnerable under Bobo’s hands.

Bobo didn’t trust Henry as far as he could throw him. Though, in hindsight, that was farther than the analogy itself could withstand. The buttery nature of his speech didn’t hide the fact that Henry was tense like a spring. Coiled so tight around the metal, that it would only take one wrong move for the weak spot to snap. He’d anticipated the fraying patience. Knew he’d stalk around the outskirts of the park, looking for any shred of evidence that the Witch was near. The long and short of it was that Bobo wanted Constance dead. Hell, he maybe could even be convinced to let Henry have the pleasure of doing it for the right price, but she had something she needed to give him first. 

What he hadn’t expected was for Henry to be hungry for something other than revenge. Bobo could barely remember what it felt like to really long for something other than getting the fuck out of Purgatory. 

Call it an insult to his delicate sensibilities, but while Bobo knew he used touch like a threat and a weapon, he sure as hell wasn’t going to sit through John Henry Holliday thinking he could use his _sexual prowess_ to gain any favors from him.

But he was staring at Bobo now with something akin to contrition, and oh, he had to hand it to him because it almost looked _convincing_. With Bobo’s hand pressing loosely at his throat while hooking his fingers into the belt of his holster with the other, Henry still wore the look of a man who was sorry for stepping in where he wasn’t asked. There was no love lost between them, but that— that _mattered_. 

When Bobo turned them, slamming Henry’s back into the rickety wall of his trailer he wasn’t met with protest. Henry’s lips parted, a grunt joined by blown pupils escaping him as he kept his hands held high as though to keep himself from touching Bobo again without permission. 

Heat coiled in Bobo’s chest despite himself. Good. _Fine_. If Henry was willing to take orders for once, he could ride whatever train this was until he’d had his fill. Persistent pain in the ass or not, his interest in Henry was not exactly news. 

He twisted his hand, tilting Henry’s head until the line of his neck was exposed and dipped his head to lick a stripe of skin from collar to jaw. Henry’s hands twitched above him and Bobo sunk his teeth into the pulse point, growling like an animal at the scent just behind his ear. Dirt and gunpowder and _Henry_. He’d been drawn to this very place more than once, unable to resist leaning in just close enough to catch it. Most human men _stunk,_ but Henry could draw sirens from the sea with the primal nature of his smell— and it had infuriated Bobo from the beginning. 

A noise escaped Henry, something like a hiss and a sigh, his body going soft in the places he tilted up to meet Bobo like this had been exactly what he’d been waiting for the entire time. Bobo’s hands drifted together to wrench his shirt out of his belt, fingers pressing into skin before catching in a bruising grip on Henry’s surprisingly small hip bones. 

“This what you thought was gonna happen?” He growled, barely dodging the knock of his jaw when Henry turned sharply to glare and bare his teeth at him. His shirt was a flimsy, too-big knock off he must have stolen from somewhere because the buttons slipped open with hardly any effort on Bobo’s part. It was almost a shame he hadn’t had the opportunity to hear the fabric rip apart. “You wanted to press me into the wood here and make me sing like a bird?”

“What I wanted,” Henry panted, letting his head fall forward until their lips brushed and all the hair on Bobo’s arms stood up at the contact. “Involved a much flatter surface and infinitely less clothing.” His breath rushed out of him when Bobo’s fingernails scraped against a nipple, teeth clenching down against something that sounded suspiciously like a whine of frustration. “Are you _ever_ going to let me touch you?”

Bobo didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want Henry’s _fucking_ mouth in any way that wasn’t going to make this worth it while he _had it_. He wasn’t aware of his hands sliding up to grip the sides of Henry’s jaw until their lips crashed together. One of them made a sound, but it was Henry who opened his mouth and swiped his tongue between Bobo’s lips with frenzy. This time, when Doc’s wandering hands found a space for themselves grasping at his hips, Bobo didn’t let go. He snapped his teeth at that wicked tongue, growled low when Doc retaliated by pressing his own into his bottom lip. They kissed like the sting of his fist in Doc’s face, like the burn of a gunshot wound. Like they had something to _prove_. 

Bobo stepped back just enough to watch Henry risk reaching for him before sliding his hand behind his holster and tugging him after. Doc looked torn between throttling him and crowding him back against the door, and Bobo couldn’t deny the thrill that came with riling up a man who’d spent so much of his life pretending he couldn’t be affected. 

It took no time at all to navigate to the bedroom and even less to push Doc onto the mattress. He went without protest, leaning up on his elbows to watch the way Bobo stalked into the space after him. Bobo took only a moment to admire the way his shirt fell open, baring the smooth expanse of Henry’s stomach, and the wiry hair at his chest before pressing the flat of his hand just under his navel and sliding up. He followed it with his mouth, fascinated with the valleys before him and determined to leave a trail of reddening marks until Doc was gasping. 

There were hands tugging at his shoulders by the time he made it up to his chest, trying to find a way to remove Bobo’s shirt without interrupting his ministrations. “I didn’t take you for a man who dawdled,” Doc said. “But if you could get to the point before one of us manages to grow old, I would appreciate it _greatly._ ”

When Bobo huffed a breath against Doc’s sternum it had the cadence of a laugh, and he sat back to grasp the edges of the shirt to remove it himself. He threw it to some unspecified corner and felt his lips curve up at how Henry seemed about ready to vibrate off the bed. Henry’s eyes were blown dark, and when Bobo got close enough to touch he didn’t bother asking when he bodily pulled Bobo back over him by the arms.

“I should have known you’d be demanding,” Their hips pressed together when Bobo settled and he grunted, licking again into Henry’s mouth as those long-fingered hands ran across his flank. His touch didn’t stutter over Bobo’s mark, in fact, he spread his fingers as he dragged up and over the rounds of Bobo’s shoulders “Think of it as being _thorough,”_ he bit out, still smirking at him. “because I intend to take my time.” 

Henry was biting on his bottom lip, growling at him like he wasn’t trying to climb inside Bobo’s skin. He’d wrapped every limb he had to spare around him as if he were afraid Bobo would leave. Or at least leave before he got him off. Bobo didn’t expect a repeat of this. Whatever it was that had Henry desperate for a roll in the hay would fade with the last dredges of his orgasm. And that was fine. It was. They both had scores to settle.

Bobo pressed kiss after kiss to that swollen mouth, thumbs brushing back the dark strands of hair in his way and ground down until that fussy rumbling turned into his name.

* * *

  
  


_Thorough_ , he’d said. At this point, Doc was going to kill him if Bobo didn’t get the rest of his clothes off _immediately._

He threaded his fingers into that silly tuft of hair on the top of Bobo’s head, leading him back to his mouth so that he could take all of his current frustrations out on the tongue he wanted everywhere and nowhere else. Bobo’s hands were warm; setting his skin on fire in the wake of their movements and he wondered if this is how he felt all the time. How did he manage in this climate, being made of liquid fire? Those hands ran down his chest, over the sides of his hips before dipping behind Doc and pulling him up by the ass so that he could grind their erections together through their clothing. Doc had never in his life hated a piece of stitched fabric as fervently as he did right now. But as it was, there were two sets of jeans between him and that enticing hardness that was currently rubbing against his own and he wanted them _gone_.

It was a pleasing discovery to find that Bobo’s back was a work of _art_ ; broad shoulders and leagues of corded muscle that lead down into narrow hips. He sighed his askance into Bobo’s mouth when his hands dipped underneath the hem of his jeans and squeezed at what skin he could find. Bobo bucked, ripping away from his mouth with a snarl and flinging Doc’s hands away. For a moment Doc’s stomach clenched at the thought that he may again have crossed some unknown line. It was hard, to keep up with a man who’s moods appeared to shift like the tide.

But instead of being ceremoniously ripped off the bed and fed to slobbering Revenants for his indiscretions, he found himself watching in growing anticipation as Bobo’s deft fingers made quick work of his holster and belt. The slide of his legs from his borrowed pants was an instant relief to his cock, which pulsed thickly as Bobo traced his sharp-looking canines with his tongue at the sight of him. If _that_ didn’t boost a man’s ego, he wasn’t sure what could. 

Bobo spread Doc’s legs to angle himself closer, sucking bruises into the skin of his inner thigh as he made his way down to where Doc wanted him the most. His breath was warm and wet against his head, teasing him to the point Doc found himself debating the merits of _asking nicely._ If Bobo’s intent was to stop his heart, he was going to have to concede defeat. 

It had been a very, very long time since someone had made Doc see stars simply by sucking him off, but when Bobo finally took him into his mouth Doc arched off the bed with a keen he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard before. Of course, _of course_ , the bastard had such a mouth on him, why would he not be able to use it? His legs were draped over Bobo’s shoulders while Bobo slid his hands under him to grip his ass and set a rhythm that Doc couldn’t find stride of. All he could do was bite down on the meat of his hand and try not to howl. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Doc cried in earnest, his chest heaving. “You— _wait.”_

Somehow understanding Doc’s request, Bobo pulled off with the lewdest of noises just to make a point. He swiped his thumb across his reddened lips to reveal a pleased smile that Doc wanted to _bite_. If he’d thought him distracting before it was a far cry from the vision he made now with his body curved over Doc and the devil in his grin. 

When his gaze trailed up to meet Doc’s all it took then was a silent communication and some joint fumbling to divest Bobo of his own jeans and honestly, it was simply not fair for the man to not have bothered with underwear when Doc was already too worked up to enjoy the fact outside of being able to reach between them to grasp Bobo’s cock that much sooner. He smeared his thumb over the head that was already leaking, and Doc felt an echoing ache in his own.

Bobo jerked in his hands, cupping Doc’s chin to bring them into another open-mouthed kiss that sent some desperate current down Doc’s spine. His hand was gently pushing Doc back and he went until they were back on the bed and then finally, _finally_ Doc was being pressed into the mattress by the naked weight of him.

The noise they made when their cocks brushed together couldn’t have been disguised if they’d tried, but Doc didn’t have any intention of being _quiet_. He’d long since passed that point. Bobo scrapped his nails up the sides of his legs as they once again wrapped around his waist to pull him closer. There wasn’t a force in Hell besides Bobo’s own rejection that was going to separate them now if Doc had any say in the matter. He could not remember a time when he felt like he couldn’t breathe without the touch of another’s skin, but every time Bobo shifted Doc’s body rose to meet him without coherent thought. 

Bobo’s breath came ragged when their mouths parted again, drifting in heady rushes of air as he rested his head on Doc’s chest for a moment before reaching out blindly to the left of them. 

“Drawer,” He panted. “Bottle.” 

“I will be sure to take your lack of speech as a compliment,” Doc smirked, scooting up just enough to reach for the tiny drawer and pull it open. There was little in it that could be mistaken for what he was after and by the time he slapped the little bottle into Bobo’s waiting hand, Bobo was already pressing biting kisses into his jaw. 

“Do you ever shut up?” Bobo hissed, but Doc could feel the way his lips curved against his skin and felt his own lift in response. And it was odd, how neither of them felt the need to bother with false words. How it felt natural to poke and prod—that it was _fun._

“Better men than you have tried to get me to.” 

The bite of nails came again, digging just enough for Doc to feel the sting and then Bobo rose back on his haunches. He coated his fingers in slick, tossing the bottle onto the bed and smiling like he’d been challenged. “Well. Then I suppose it’s my turn.” 

“By all means,” Doc gestured with the hand that wasn’t keeping him propped up to enjoy the show. 

A rumbling noise came from Bobo’s chest, a mixture between a chuckle and a growl as he lifted Doc’s right leg to sling over his shoulder and draw them together. Those nimble fingers brushed against Doc, one pressing in with a care he wouldn’t have expected from him mere hours ago. But Bobo was nothing if not an attentive lover, he was coming to find, and everything in him lit up like a livewire at every touch. Doc’s head had fallen back, his body already relaxing against the slow intrusion and when he righted himself, Bobo was watching him with a question in his eyes.

“I will not break,” He said, and his voice came soft under the blood that roared in his ears. “Go on.”

Bobo shook his head as if clearing himself of something, pressing his mouth to Henry’s knee before adding the second finger and crooking them both in a gesture that stole his voice.

* * *

Bobo found that getting Henry to stop talking was one thing, getting him to stop making _noise_ was another. He was a pliant, willing thing under Bobo’s hands, his body in constant movement against him accompanied by a symphony of sound that was a language all its own. 

Henry’s fingers twisted in the sheets when Bobo withdrew his hand and the lightning blue of his eyes burned like a brand when he lined himself up. He didn’t know what compelled him to untangle Henry’s hand so that he could slide his fingers into the open spaces as he eased in with shallow thrusts. Couldn’t have recalled if asked why he felt like he still wasn’t fucking _close enough_ even when Henry’s free arm wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him down for another kiss. 

Kissing Henry in itself was set to drive Bobo insane. He’d never kissed this much during sex in his life but it was all he could do to resist the sweet sounds that poured from Henry’s mouth when he angled just right. 

Nails dug into the brand on his back and Bobo gritted his teeth, leaning down on one arm so that he could lift Henry’s ass just enough to change the game. He wouldn’t let Bobo go any farther than that and they bit and licked at mouths and jaws and shoulders until that burning in his core became too much to bear. 

“Bobo,” Henry gasped like the word was ripped from him. Bobo pressed another fierce kiss to his lips before touching their sweat-slicked foreheads together. 

“ _Henry,_ ” he said in answer, an entreaty in its own right. 

The world broke and restructured itself around the sound of their cries. Henry clung to him as he came in thick, white rivulets between their bodies and the scent of him, of _them_ pushed Bobo clear over the edge only moments after. 

They shared breath until their heartbeats began to settle, but Bobo didn’t open his eyes until he felt hands on his face. _Move_ , Doc was likely to say. _It’s done._

And that was _fine._

He attempted to lift himself off Henry, but the grip only tightened; surprising him enough that he opened his eyes to meet the flushed and satisfied face of one John Henry. The same man who was wiping the sweat from his brow, and brushing his fingers against the shells of his ear. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before lifting up to kiss him on the corner of his mouth. A knot of worry Bobo refused to acknowledge before then uncoiled just enough to let him speak. 

“No comment?”

“It is the fact that you expect me to be able to speak in full sentences so shortly after such an activity that brands you a heathen.” 

Bobo rolled his eyes and finally made to move. He got far enough to collapse on one side and idly calculate how far he was willing to walk to get to a towel to clean himself off. Henry was chuckling now, going loose-limbed and sleepy as Bobo watched on. “You sound just fine to me.”

“It’s a defense mechanism. I am not entirely sure I can move.” 

“You’re welcome,” Bobo grinned into Henry’s unamused face when it turned his way. The expression softened as their gazes held, then resolved itself enough to clear the drowsiness from Henry’s eyes as he sat up. 

“I suppose I should take my leave,” He said, but the words hit the air sticky and flat. “I assume the rumors will be entertaining.”

It was bound to happen sooner or later. In fact, Bobo should ensure that it was indeed _now_. God knew what kind of bullshit he was going to have to spin to the rest of the men tomorrow as it was. There was no point in rubbing salt in the wound by letting Henry stay. He shouldn’t expect it. 

He shouldn’t _want_ it.

Bobo reached out to wrap his fingers around Henry’s wrist. There wasn’t any strength used to pull him, they just rested there against his pulse and waited. 

They looked at each other for a long time there in the dark. The air still held smoke from the fires outside and voices drifted in and out of earshot that muddled together until it was all low humming static. Everything stood frozen until Henry’s shoulders sagged like a weight was lifted and he slid back into the space that Bobo had inadvertently left for him. 

Bobo didn’t sleep if he could help it, but he let Henry drag the old comforter over them both and curl himself into the crevices of him that opened to fit them together. He settled his arms around Henry and ignored the way Henry’s mustache threatened to tickle at his neck when he finally dozed off and watched the lights flicker on the ceiling.

It was minutes our hours before Bobo ran his hand up Henry’s side, over his neck and cradled his head; when he buried his nose in greasy ink colored hair and breathed deep enough to know he was in trouble. 

Well, at least this was the type of trouble you chose. 


End file.
